Only for You
by noelowl
Summary: An asexual Sherlock wants to finally give John the pleasure he feels John deserves. Kinda fluffy, kinda smutty, a relatively short one-shot.


**Author Notes:**

**Hello everyone! This is my first fic, it's a sorta fluffy, sorta smutty one-shot and is kindof really lame but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! I wrote it from an asexual's viewpoint so I made Sherlock, the only character I can envision so, such. Comments and critique are very welcome, always trying to improve, but I'd ask, of course, that if you critique keep it constructive, though I'm sure you don't need such a reminder! Thank you, enjoy! -Owl**

* * *

How it came to this, neither knew, and neither really cared. John was spread on Sherlock's bed, the shocked expression on his face ruined only by the small smile that pulled up a corner of his mouth. He hadn't seen it coming, sure, but it couldn't stop his enjoyment. Sherlock knelt above him, straddling John's hips without touching, his hands hanging by his sides, lips slightly parted, eyes roaming up and down John's still-clothed torso and face until they met with John's own. Sherlock smiled, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a twisted grin, he looked like the cat who caught the canary. A simultaneous "_Oh no_." and "_Oh yes._" rang through John's head. Sherlock leaned over him, hands hovering a moment then gripping John's sweater and pulling it slowly over his head, careful not to make contact with his skin, he would draw this out. He pulled the sweater over John's head and threw it across the room, John couldn't help but laugh. A crease appeared between Sherlock's eyes and he dropped himself down, still careful not to touch, and held his face an inch above John's, hands on either side of his head, expression non-changing. John gasped and the grin fell off his face, his heart pounding, they'd never been this close without touching, a shiver ran through him and he understood what Sherlock was doing. What a fucking tease.

The cat-like grin reappeared on Sherlock's face and he raised himself back up into his kneeling position. A thoughtful expression passed over his face and he reached out, hand hovering just over John's side, not touching, not yet. He watched curiously as goosebumps spread from where his hand hovered all the way up his chest and down his arms. He reached out his other hand, holding it over the other side, the effect was just as intriguing, only this time John shuddered, breath hitching slightly. Sherlock moved his hands upward, watching the effect it had on John with bemusement; his flesh broke out in goosebumps, breath hitching then rushing out in a gust, he shuddered as if electricity ran through him, and yet he made no move to close the gap. Good, he was enjoying this, he was going to play along.

Sherlock leaned forward again, bracing himself on the bed with his left hand, his right moving upward until it was just above John's scar. He looked to John, as if for permission, and found it there; his blown pupils huge, pleading. Sherlock lowered his middle finger to the taught skin and drew one small, slow circle there before pulling back to his former position. John let out a small sound, choked with a pleasure that was not quite enough.

In one swift motion Sherlock whipped his own shirt over his head, pausing before letting it slip of his arms, his shoulders drawn in, a bit self-conscious next to John, who's military muscle hadn't yet grown soft. He looked to John, searching for something, he didn't know what. John's eyes were wide with awe as they slid over Sherlock's bare shoulders, his chest and arms still hidden by the shirt, he wished Sherlock would toss it away as he'd tossed his own, wanting to see more of the smooth, marble skin. His eyes met with Sherlock's who found what he needed there as he let the shirt slide off the rest of the way, discarding it on the floor with John's. Sherlock saw a hunger in John's eyes that amused and flattered him, he reached down, taking John's hand. It was trembling slightly as Sherlock drew it towards him, placing it on his chest, over his heart. He stroked John's hand with his own for a moment before pulling John's hand away, trailing his fingers lightly down his arm and pushing it above John's head, doing the same to the other. He closed his fingers over John's, making him grip the bars of the headboard. He ran his fingers back down his muscular arms before leaning close and whispering in John's ear:

"_Stay_." John froze for a split second before shuddering again, letting out a shaky laugh, gripping the bars a little tighter. Appeased, Sherlock drew back to his former position, thought for a moment, then sat gently on John's thighs, just below a growing hardness in John's feeling-tighter-by-the-second jeans, which in turn grew even harder. Sherlock gazed down at the growing bulge, amused again. He himself felt nothing in his loins, he never had and never would, the feeling stopped short at the fluttering in his stomach and the pang in his chest. John knew this and respected it, never asking for any favours, which was why this..._this_ was so new and shocking. But Sherlock, libido or no, wanted to please John, he loved to see him in such a state of pure emotion. He reached up again, and instead of simply hovering there, drug his nails lightly down John's sides, hoping for a good reaction.

He was not disappointed, John's back arched and his grip on the bars tightened and loosened rhythmically, his eyes squeezing tight as he moaned slightly. Sherlock ran his nails back up and down his sides before stopping at his hips, gripping them tightly. John let out a breathless sigh, rolling his head back and side-to-side. Sherlock, smiling his cat's smile again, lowered his head and brushed his lips against John's scar. John's eyes flew open as he turned his head, Sherlock had not moved and John's cheek met Sherlock's wild hair. It tickled him as the scent that was Sherlock filled his senses, he let out another shaky breath and Sherlock moved his face back. He put his hands on either side of John's head and leaned into him, close enough to kiss but pulling back ever so slightly. John's wide eyes and parted lips filled Sherlock's heart and he leaned in; kissing him first on the forehead and temples, then the cheeks, he ran his lips over John's jawline before finally pecking him on the lips. He pulled away again and John, eyes half-lidded, stretched out towards him and Sherlock couldn't resist.

Their lips crashed together in blind passion before Sherlock pulled away again, trailing kisses back down John's jawline, then down his neck and chest, Sherlock glancing up after every few watching John fall deeper and deeper into ecstasy. He crawled backwards as he went, leaving a, to John, burning trail of light kisses all the way down his chest and stomach before looking mischeviously into John's heavy eyes and planting the lightest kiss of all to his denim-clad groin. John resisted the urge to buck his hips up but just barely, his head rolling back. Sherlock stuck his fingers into the brim of John's jeans, moving them slowly side to side, brushing his knuckles against the sensitive skin between John's hips, not surprised that John was going, as some called it, "commando". John's breathing had grown ragged and his jeans tight. Sherlock unbuttoned his pants slowly, running his finger up and down the zipper twice before pulling it down.

_God, he hasn't even taken of my pants yet, he has barely even touched me, in fact, and I'm already a mess._ Was John's last coherent thought before Sherlock tugged his jeans down roughly, to which John hissed in pleasure and a bit of pain, before tossing them into the growing pile of discarded clothes. Sherlock spread open John's legs just wide enough to sit, resting his hands on John's lightly-quivering thighs. He ran his palms over them to test his reaction, then his nails, John bucked and squirmed, his voice a keening whine, his breath coming out in pants. Sherlock brushed his knuckles lightly against the underside of John's length, up and down, up and down, in a hypnotic, teasing rhythm that had John crying out unintelligibly.

John's body was hot beneath him, his temperature rising until beads of sweat broke out on his skin. Sherlock leaned forward, sliding his hands up John's sides, and licked up his chest.

"Ah!" John moaned, his voice growing louder in his passion, "Sher-Sherlock!" Sherlock chuckled and leaned further up, covering John's mouth with his own. He reached between them, sliding his hand down John's sweat-slicked chest, before slipping his hand over John's cock, lightly stroking the underside in circles. John moaned into Sherlock's still-smiling mouth, he bit John's lip and John moaned again, shakily, his body quivering below him. He moved his mouth over John's ear, breathing lightly, he smiled.

"_John_." he all but breathed into his ear as drew his fist firmly up John's length. It was all so much, too much; the priceless gesture, the trust and love that Sherlock demonstrated by even thinking about doing this for him, Sherlock's absurd sensuality. It undid him. John came as his world narrowed to a point, colours seemed to dim and then grow brighter than they ever were before. He let go of the bars and wound his fingers in Sherlock's messy curls as he leaned his head back and called out one word, his world.

"_Sherlock_!"

***Thanks to my best friend Amy for reading through it for me!**


End file.
